I push my fingers through his hair. It’s grown out in the past two weeks, hitting below his cheekbones. I rise up on my toes and press a soft kiss to his mouth.
“Seriously, Balls, can’t you wait, like, five minutes?” Miller asks.
“I’m just saying hello, and I’m looking for a little privacy to do that.” Randy gives the door a hard shove with his shoulder. Miller shouts and Randy turns the lock. “And now we have some.”
His smile holds anything but humor as he lifts me up and sets me on the dryer. It’s the perfect height. I part my legs and scootch forward so I can feel his hard-on. And he’s definitely hard. Randy leaves wet kisses on my neck as he cuts a path up to my mouth.
“You’re terrible.”
“I know. We don’t have to stay here long—like fifteen minutes, and then we can go back to my place where we can play until you have to go back to Canadia.”
Miller knocks on the door. Or maybe it’s Alex. I don’t care. All I know is Randy’s tongue is in my mouth, looking for something to tangle with.
“Why’re you wearing pants? They’re so inconvenient,” he complains.
I laugh into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist. He’s dry-humping the hell out of me, and the seam of my jeans is hitting the right spot. Like that time in the bathroom at the exhibition game, I get that shimmery feeling—the one where I’m sure if we keep going I’ll probably come. Randy finds his way under my shirt. Tickling along my ribs, he slides his finger under my bra until he reaches my nipple.
“I seriously need you naked. It’s not even funny.”
I keep rubbing up on him, grinding harder. I’m whimpering and yanking on his hair. Randy breaks the kiss to look at me. “You’re gonna come aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
He gives me that smile I used to love-hate and now I just want to suck off his face. With my vagina. “I should be inside you for that.”
That’s all it takes—and the friction, and the way he pinches my nipple. The orgasm slams into me like a linebacker on crack. It’s a toe-curling, mind-numbing, full-on quiver attack. I try not to make a sound, because there are people on the other side of the door—and if I can hear them they can certainly hear me—but I fail. It’s a high-pitched moan that includes Randy’s name.
I’m not even close to being over the crest of it when the door bursts open. All my muscles are locked like I’ve been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Randy doesn’t even bother to look at them, his focus is singular: me.
I bite my lip, a whole-body tremor making my eyes roll up.
“Oh, wow.” That’s Sunny.
“Is she—” Charlene starts.
“Oh, definitely,” Violet interjects. “Check out her toes.”
The commentary kills the end of the orgasm. I glance over at the three of them gawking at us. Randy seems totally unfazed. In fact, he’s smug as fuck.
“Um. You should stay there. Both of you.” Sunny holds her hand out to the side. Lance collides with it, and she pushes him back. “All of you.”
Violet fans herself. “I feel like I just watched porn.”
“Close the damn door!” I finally croak, collapsing against Randy’s chest.
He’s laughing. I’m so mortified I could die.
“Kinda pointless now, don’t ya think?” Violet asks. “Seven minutes in heaven is up, Balls. I hope yours aren’t too blue right now. Either that, or you need a change of pants, and I need a drink.” She turns away. “Alex, baby, can you make me those shots I like? The ones you call panty removers?”
When I look back, Sunny has her hair twirled around her finger, and she’s brushing it across her lips. Randy helps me off the washing machine. I slide down the front of his body and feel his hard-on against my stomach. I don’t know how he can still be so smirky. He pats my ass as we step out into foyer. Thankfully, most of the crowd has already moved on. It’s only Miller and Sunny. He gives Randy a look, then puts an arm around Sunny’s shoulder and guides her down the hall.
My face feels like I have the worst sunburn in the world. I’m usually a private person. Private about sex, about my life, about pretty much everything, so knowing all these people heard me in the throes of ecstasy—because that’s exactly what it was—is the pinnacle of embarrassing. Randy picks me up and sets me on a stool at Alex’s breakfast bar, then he hugs me from behind. I don’t know what to think about all this affection. Apparently neither does anyone else, because it’s not me getting weird looks—despite my loud orgasm—it’s Randy. Maybe I’m not alone in thinking this thing between us doesn’t seem totally casual anymore.